25
by Lucifer Rosemaunt
Summary: ErikRaoul slash, later chapter. Modern AU. Raoul's known Erik for almost the entirety of his life, or the one where a Chagny ends up changing Erik's life in one way or another.
1. 5

Fandom: Phantom of the Opera   
>Disclaimer<span>: Please don't sue. I don't own *insert fandom name from above*... All I own is an overactive imagination.  
><span>Summary<span>: Modern AU. Raoul's known Erik for almost the entirety of his life, or the one where a Chagny ends up changing Erik's life in one way or another.  
><span>Warning(s)<span>: slash   
>Pairing(s)<span>: ErikRaoul  
><span>Word Count<span>: 3,082

A/N: In celebration of the 25th anniversary of POTO (the musical of course since the book's been out long before then), I wrote this fic. I actually watched the show in a movie theatre and wasn't horribly impressed. It didn't do the stageplay much justice since they unnecessarily changed things in it.  
><span>Story note<span>: It's odd. I'd been relatively unmolested by plotbunnies lately until I watched the 25th anniversary showing and now they're back in full force, but that's not odd (that was expected). What _is _odd is the fact that most of the plotbunnies are Modern AU ones. Why? I don't know. But this came out of it. Slash is also later in the story.

o.o.o.o

25  
>By: Lucifer Rosemaunt<p>

Chapter 01 - 5

o.o.o.o

Ages:  
>Raoul, 5 yo<br>Philippe, 15 yo  
>Erik, 15 yo<p>

o.o.o

At the sound of the door opening, Raoul scrambled to his feet, knocking over one of the skyscrapers from the city of wood blocks he'd been working on all afternoon. The eight block high tower tumbled down with a crash, taking down the tiny apartment complex behind it. Raoul hesitated, desperately wanting to rebuild, but the sound of his brother's voice convinced him otherwise.

"Uh, yeah, so this is my house."

Raoul dashed out of his room, socks slipping on beige carpet, and skidded to a halt at the top of the stairs. He crouched down, fitting his head between two of the posts of the stair railing as he looked down into the foyer. His brother was back from school. Raoul stared longingly at his uniform, a white polo with the logo over his heart and khaki pants ironed so well that the crease still showed after an entire day. Just like any other day, Philippe toed off his shoes and tossed his backpack to the side. What was different this time, however, was that there was a boy, a classmate if the uniform were any indication, who stood beside him. The boy's clothes weren't as neat as Philippe's but it was close.

The older Chagny was explaining. "My dad's probably still at work; he works pretty late. My mom's probably making dinner. My sisters have ballet class and my brother," Philippe turned to look up the stairs and immediately spotted him. He grinned widely, "is probably watching us."

The strange boy followed his gaze and Raoul couldn't help but stare. Strange was an appropriate word since the boy wore a white mask that covered half of his face. He looked as dubious at Raoul as Raoul did at him.

Their staring contest was cut short when Philippe called, "Raoul." He motioned for him to come down.

Raoul obeyed immediately, trusting his brother completely despite the stranger in their house. He stomped down the stairs loudly, making a ruckus no one his size should have been able to make. When he was three stairs from the bottom, he jumped and with practiced ease, Philippe caught him, squeezing him in a tight hug. Raoul giggled, wrapping his legs around his brother and hugging him back just as enthusiastically. Philippe adjusted his grip to carry him easier.

"Erik, I'd like to introduce you to my brother, Raoul. He doesn't leave the house half as much as he should."

Raoul let go of the chokehold he had around Philippe's neck to look back. He spared a moment to stick his tongue out at his brother. Erik looked distinctly uncomfortable, wondering if all brothers acted like that. From what he'd seen at the home, he had to say no. He adjusted his backpack and barely met Raoul's eyes. In return, the young blond offered him a smile, remembering what his parents had said about being courteous. Erik didn't even attempt to smile back.

"Raoul," Philippe dipped a bit, "I'd like you to meet my lab partner, Erik. He's sorta new at school."

Their sophomore year in high school was halfway over and Erik had actually transferred in the beginning of the school year. He didn't bother pointing out that he and Philippe shared two classes together in all that time. It wasn't as though Philippe actually ignored him though, Erik knew. It was simply that the other boy was involved in practically everything and was constantly busy. Half the time, Philippe was exempted from classes because of events he was in charge of and when he _was_ in class, the girls constantly fawned over him, crowding him. Erik didn't really know how he passed any of his classes.

On the other hand, Erik had actually been happy to stay anonymous, keep his scholarship money and wait for graduation. Everyone left him alone. It helped that he glared at anyone who tried to speak with him, sit near him, or approach him in any manner. Most teachers allowed him to work alone when he could and when he couldn't, he laid out the terms of their association and kept conversation to a minimum. Today in chemistry, they had needed to find partners for a project. Philippe had been the one to walk up to him, state his name clearly, and ask him outright if he would like to be partners. Erik had seen the disgruntled looks from the others in the class who had wanted to work with him. None of them approached though; they might spread rumours about him, but they weren't willing to attack him directly. It was only the vindictive glee at seeing their disappointment that made him say yes.

He had regretted it almost immediately after when Philippe had asked him to go over to his house and he regretted it now.

Raoul stared at him and Erik stared back. The younger of the two held out his hand and pointed, "What's wrong with your face?"

"Ah," Philippe pulled him away before Raoul could get any idea and pull off the mask himself. "I'm so sorry about that." Erik was about to interject that it was expected, but Philippe had already turned his attention to Raoul, scolding, "That's not polite. You shouldn't say things like that."

Raoul pouted. "But…"

"No but's, Raoul." Philippe put him down and Raoul swayed a bit at the suddenly change, trying to get his feet settled. "That's impolite. Now, I want you to apologize."

Blue eyes widened, tearing up almost immediately. Raoul stared at his brother, bottom lip quivering, but Philippe remained unmoved.

"Apologize."

Erik stared down at the boy. His hair was a lighter blond than his brother's and his eyes much bluer, though Erik only saw it through the tears in his eyes. His face was round, but it was easy to see that it was simply baby fat he would eventually grow out of. He wore quite short, navy blue shorts, ironed just as well as Philippe's school uniform and white socks that stopped just below his knees so that the patch of pale skin of his knees showed. A neon green band-aid covered his right knee. His cotton white polo shirt was dressed-up with a string bow tie, the same color of his shorts. Erik actually felt a little bad for the kid. Not because he shouldn't be taught it wasn't nice to point out other people's deformities, but rather because he was certain the older Chagnys were cruel enough to have taken a lot of pictures of him in this outfit. Erik did admit to himself though, if Raoul had been his little brother, he would probably put him in the same outfits, just because the boy somehow managed to pull it off.

"I'm sorry," Raoul mumbled, head bowed low. Messy blond hair covered his expression.

Philippe crouched to place his hand on Raoul's shoulders. "Okay. Now you need to see if Erik accepts your apology."

Still pouting, Raoul looked up. Instead of anger, like Erik expected him to feel for being chastised, he truly looked apologetic and desperately hopeful that he would accept his apology. Philippe looked at him, silently prompting him to respond.

At a loss for what to do, Erik answered, "It's fine." It wasn't the first time people have stared and wondered. He did have to admit that Raoul was the first person to ever ask so directly about it. All the other children he encountered were too frightened by him to speak to him directly.

Raoul looked relieved and gave him a tentative smile, obviously uncertain as to how it would be received. In return, Erik gave a tight smile that came and went in a breath. Still, it had been seen and the young boy brightened up immediately, despite his sniffling.

Philippe was still fussing over Raoul, wiping the tears that had spilled over when their mother called. "Philippe? Is that you?" she yelled from somewhere further inside the house. "I need your help in the kitchen."

Philippe stood, looking at Erik as though that entire exchange had been normal. "Sorry about that. I'll be right back." He placed a hand on Raoul's head and getting an idea said to his brother, "Hey, why don't you show Erik the city we've been working on and I'll be up there as soon as possible?"

Raoul nodded enthusiastically. His eyes were trained on his older brother leaving until he could no longer see him. Then, it was just Erik alone with Raoul in the foyer, and all that intense focus was once again turned upon him. He wanted nothing more than to leave.

"You need to take your shoes off before we can go upstairs," Raoul nodded sagely.

Erik glanced down at his penny loafers and then Raoul's socked feet before doing as he was told. He placed them neatly against the wall. Almost immediately after the task was done, a small hand grabbed his and began dragging him up the stairs. Too stunned to pull away, Erik followed the enthusiastic child.

"Pip and I've been working on this for a week."

They turned right at the top of the stairs, passed a closed door that looked like a closet, before Raoul threw open a door.

Erik almost tripped at the sudden stop and muttered to himself, "Pip?" However, when he finally got his bearings he paused. Raoul's bedroom was larger than Erik's at his foster parents' house. It even had two windows compared to Erik's one. The walls were painted a sky blue, a small twin bed was pressed against the corner, bed sheets of a city scene adorned it. At the base was a large trunk and beside it a desk and a short bookcase. There was even a sliding closet.

He shouldn't have expected any less, especially after he'd first seen the house. He'd only ever lived in apartments, but even he knew that the Chagny household was larger than most. It just made him even more aware of the differences that existed between those on scholarship at their private school and those who obviously didn't need the assistance. It was the same everywhere really. He'd simply forgotten because Philippe had seemed friendly. Maybe he was taking pity on the transfer student or the freak who wore a mask, but it hadn't seemed like it at the time. Even now, it didn't seem like this was out of pity.

But, it wasn't really the size of the room that had made Erik stop. Spread out on almost every inch of floor space in the room were blocks. A little city made of blocks of different shapes, sizes, and colors had been built in Raoul's room. Toy cars were scattered about the streets and a main path that led to all the important areas of the bedroom – bed, closet, desk –doubled as a public rail system, indicated by the toy trolleys. Erik could distinctly see a downtown with all the skyscrapers closest to them, although there seemed to be construction still going on. The short one-block rows neatly ordered with obvious streets by the desk had to be some sort of suburb. There was a park near the bed with green construction paper as the grass, a Christmas tree figurine and two dinosaurs having a picnic.

Raoul had yet to relinquish his hold on Erik's hand so he tugged him forward so that they actually entered the room. Erik gingerly made his way in, worried that he would inadvertently destroy all the obvious hard work that had gone into this small city.

"See, this is where all the daddies and mommies work." He pointed to the skyscrapers. "And this is where everything gets made." He pointed to the blocks that formed squat rectangles off to the side.

"A warehouse district?" Erik couldn't help but verbalize.

"Um," Raoul shrugged, "Yeah, I think that's what Pip called it."

Erik couldn't help but ask, "Pip? As in your brother, Philippe?"

The younger boy finally looked away from his block structures to gaze at him. "Uh-huh." He paused his explanation, distracted into staring at him.

Tugging his hand away from the tight grasp, Erik stared down at him. He knew Raoul wanted to ask about his face again, but his eyes were still rimmed-red and surely the previous censure from his brother was still fresh in his mind.

"Is…" Raoul started. He looked at the nearest building and plucked the roof from it. He stared at the red triangle. "Is it like a band-aid?"

Erik wasn't quite sure what he was trying to say.

As though sensing his confusion, Raoul continued. "Matti fell out of the tree in the back one time and scratched her eye. She had to wear a mask for weeks."

"A mask?"

Small shoulders shrugged. He found the block quite interesting as he turned it over in his hands. "The thing pirates wear."

"An eyepatch," Erik supplied.

Raoul looked up. "Yeah. I guess."

Erik looked towards the doorway, hoping Philippe would make an appearance. This was why he didn't go to other people's houses; this was why he didn't deal with any of the younger kids at the house. Still, he didn't feel as uncomfortable as he usually did when people brought up his mask or spoke to him at all. Now that he thought about it, the walk over with Philippe hadn't been horrible either. They only talked about the project, but that suited him just fine. And even though he had kept to his one word responses, Philippe hadn't been bothered by it at all. He could only hope this project wouldn't last too long.

He coached himself, reminding himself to take things slow. First, don't insult anyone's intelligence, as he was wont to do. Second, be polite and keep things focused on the project. He was already doing poorly on this one though. Third – he stared at Raoul – make it through the evening without making the kid cry. He opted for a distraction. "It's a nice city."

With the utmost care, Raoul placed the triangle back in its place. "It is. You can help. We haven't decided what to build in that corner yet." He pointed to an area that couldn't be more than a square foot, possibly the only area that did not have a block in it.

Perusing the city, Erik knew immediately what should go there.

"Will you show me when I'm older?" Raoul asked suddenly.

"What?"

"Mom and Dad always say when," he tried to deepen his voice, "'I'm older' for stuff."

So the distraction didn't work as well as he would have hoped. Erik looked at the little boy. He doubted that they would even know each other when they were 'older.' Once he was eighteen he was going to be out of the system and live his own life. There was little chance that he'd keep in touch with the Chagnys once this year passed much less once he graduated from high school. He felt confident when he answered, "Yes, Raoul. When you're older."

The blond immediately perked up. He led the way to the park where Erik was instructed to sit on the bed so as not to disturbed the dinosaurs' dinner while Raoul explained the importance of the picnic blanket to keep ants from getting to the food.

When Philippe finally arrived, he was about to apologize but stopped himself. Erik was on the bed lying on his stomach with Raoul draped on top of him, arms over the older boy's shoulders as he held one dinosaur moving it in conversation with the other one, who Erik was holding. The tail of Raoul's string bow tie dangled with their movements. Unnoticed, Philippe left to retrieve the camera from his room.

"See, an airport would mean you could go wherever you wanted in the world," Erik's dinosaur, a tyrannosaurus rex, growled as he explained.

Raoul giggled as he made his stegosaurus roar. "Anywhere?"

The t-rex nodded. "To see new people and new places that you can't even imagine."

Philippe cleared his throat. Both Erik and Raoul looked up immediately, their dinosaurs freezing where they were. Erik half-expected Raoul to scramble off him to once again jump at his brother, but instead he just waved and settled on his back once more, ready for their dinosaurs to restart their conversation.

Erik was saved from that when Philippe followed the railway path to the bed and lifted Raoul off him.

"Hey!" Raoul said indignantly. Philippe placed his down to stand on his bed.

"I'm stealing your playdate because we have homework to start."

"But we're going to build an airport," Raoul whined.

Erik maneuvered himself on the small bed so that he could sit up. His clothes were all wrinkled and he really couldn't quite remember how they'd even gotten to the point where he was mimicking a dinosaur's voice. He was placing the t-rex down in the park once more when Raoul grabbed his shirt.

"Right? The airport?"

Looking from Raoul to Philippe, Erik realized he was caught. "There were talks about an airport."

"Then you can build it later," Philippe smirked. "I'll invite Erik over again tomorrow."

Raoul still pouted, not pleased that it would have to be put off.

"But," Philippe said, "he's going to spend dinner with us. If you want, of course." He added sheepishly, "My mom said I was raised in a barn if I thought to invite you over without asking you to stay for dinner."

Erik gaped for a moment. This was the first time he'd ever been invited to anyone's house. He certainly hadn't known what to expect, but he was convinced this turn of events was not normal at all. They looked expectantly at him, actually wanting him to stay. "I," he hesitated, "I just need to make a phone call."

Both Chagnys smiled.

o.o.o

Two months later, the project that had brought Erik and Philippe together as lab partners was long since forgotten. The air control tower looked over the empty runways of the international airport. The city was complete for now, sprawled across Raoul's bedroom floor. The walls were just beginning to be filled with drawings of pyramids, castles, and towers. And outside, two classmates talked about their summer plans while a laughing five year old held a shiny new toy airplane in hand, swooping it up and down as he trailed after them, the tails of his navy, string bow tie fluttering in the breeze.

o.o.o.o

End chapter 01

A/N: Don't forget to R/R (Read and Review)!  
><span>Chapter Review<span>: For some reason, I really do like the thought that Philippe and Erik somehow became friends. Don't ask me why. Also, Raoul's outfit is the best.

And yes, I am working on the other fics. It's just surprisingly easier to work on this right now. It's only 5 chapters though, so don't worry about it taking too much of my time. I _want _to write more. I'll find the time somehow.


	2. 10 part 1

Title: 25  
><span>#<span>: 2. 10 part 1  
><span>Author<span>: Lucifer Rosemaunt

Fandom: Phantom of the Opera   
>Pairing(s)<span>: ErikRaoul  
><span>Summary<span>: Modern AU. Raoul's known Erik for almost the entirety of his life, or the one where a Chagny ends up changing Erik's life in one way or another.  
><span>Warning(s)<span>: pre-slash, AU   
>Word Count<span>: 2,971  
><span>Rating<span>: K+

A/N: You have me until Easter. It's part of my Lenten decision to stop procrastinating and wasting my time with unnecessaries. On a related note, Fanfiction has passed the 'necessary' requirement list and has been bumped up in priorities in my new effort at time management. So, I'm trying to finish all my unfinished fanfics before Easter (which I already know is a long shot, but I figure I might as well try. It's always about trying).  
><span>Story note<span>: Moreover, this was originally only going to be 5 chapters, but seeing as I am having such difficulty freaking editing this one. I'm cutting it up into smaller chapters. There are only 5 main installments though.

o.o.o.o

Ages:  
>Raoul, 10 yo<br>Philippe, 20 yo  
>Erik, 20 yo<p>

o.o.o

When the doorbell finally chimed, Erik entirely gave up the pretense of reading his textbook. Instead, he waited for Philippe to answer the door.

This visit had been planned since last Sunday, and five days had never seemed so long to him before. There was a pause before the doorbell chimed a second time. By then, he was already on his feet lingering by the closed door of his bedroom. If he was so inclined to press his ear to it, he would hear the shuffling of feet followed by several loud thumps coming from the room beside his. As it was, he only heard the doorbell chime a third time.

"Erik, please!" Philippe called, voice muffled through the wall that separated their rooms.

He waited a moment, hand hovering over the doorknob before determining enough time had elapsed so that it would not seem he'd already been expecting Philippe's request. He paused outside his roommate's door to see him hurriedly tossing his dirty clothes underneath the bed and turning the disarray of his textbooks and projects into what Philippe liked to call "organized piles." Erik called it clutter.

Grabbing a convenient crumpled up plastic bag from his desk, Philippe started shoving in food wrappers and miscellaneous trash that never made it to his trash can. He noticed Erik watching him when he bent to pick up an empty water bottle. "What are you doing?" He picked up a sock and threw it at him, a projectile that Erik easily dodged. "They're waiting." He motioned for him to hurry up, flicking his hand towards the door.

Erik only rolled his eyes before heading towards the living room to get to the front door. He opened it just as Mrs. Chagny rang the doorbell once more.

"Oh," she gasped, "Erik." She narrowed her eyes at him, studying his face. He fought the urge to touch his face to make sure he was, in fact, wearing his porcelain mask. After a pause, she nodded and smiled, "You've grown since we last saw you." At her statement, he did reach up to touch his mask. How she could call him handsome was still a mystery to him, but he had learned well enough not to question her outright.

"Mrs. Chagny." Erik grinned and moved to the side to invite her in. "It's only been two months since school began. I couldn't have changed that much."

"Do you doubt me?" She placed a hand on his wrist.

He shook his head quickly in response.

The Chagny matron looked like such a delicate thing, petite and slender. The top of her head barely reached his shoulders. He remembered at one point in their senior year in high school suddenly realizing that he towered over her. Her blonde hair gently curled at the ends, which lately, she'd kept at shoulder length. Her eyes were such a light blue that Erik had often wondered if she wore contacts to achieve that color – he had made the mistake of asking Philippe not long after they'd first met if she did. She did not. She did, however, wear sundresses as much as possible and presented the picture of a perfect housewife, mother, and strong woman.

And, Erik was certain she was all those things. Mrs. Chagny was far from delicate. She had raised two beautiful and polite daughters as well as two overly active boys, three if you counted the two years Erik had practically lived at the Chagny household. It had also mostly been single-handedly since Mr. Chagny was always away for work. She doted on her children in every way possible. Her voice was bigger than all of theirs combined, which was quite a feat. He had witnessed firsthand as her voice cut through the din of the Chagny siblings' arguments. Yet, at the same time, the authority she could put into a single word when just as silent was astonishing. There was no doubt that she was capable of doing everything: cooking, cleaning, shopping, and she worked from home as a tax consultant to supplement their income. She could be demure and poised, but Erik only really ever remembered her as she joined in their impromptu touch football games in the backyard, boys against girls, or with her hands and clothes just as filthy as their own, as she carved pumpkins with them.

Glancing past him, she asked, "Is my son trying to clean the pigpen he lives in?"

Before Erik could reply, Philippe yelled from within his room, "I heard that!"

"You were meant to," she called back. She pulled a small container of food from the large bag that served as her purse and went directly to the kitchen to drop it off.

Erik let her pass and stared expectantly out the door.

Raoul shifted the duffle bag over his shoulder. His hair was chin length and completely disheveled, covering much of his face – not that it mattered since he had taken to staring at the floor instead of meeting people's eyes. Even now, he stared at the copper-colored, metal base of the doorframe. Noise reducing headphones were over his ears, and for all the world, he seemed to be able to ignore everyone and everything. His oversized hoodie and cargo pants made him look much smaller than he already was; he was practically swimming in his clothes. He had lost all of his baby fat even though he had yet to have a proper growth spurt, and the twig of a boy that they were left with was nothing like Erik remembered. It seemed that gone was the ecstatic little boy who ran to greet them every afternoon with hugs as though they'd been gone for months instead of the few hours that had passed. He would have even preferred the outfits Raoul had been made to wear as a child to this.

He chastised himself for those thoughts though, telling himself that it had only been a matter of time before Raoul grew up. However, he could not help but feel there had been some other impetus to this abrupt maturation. These changes had only just occurred in the past few months. The summer had started out as it had every year for the past five years. Philippe and Erik had returned home and split the time between a part time job and wandering aimlessly throughout the city with Raoul tagging along. Philippe always wanted to spend as much time with his brother as possible and Erik was embarrassed to agree that he did as well; so, they did things that would include the youngest Chagny, bowling, arcades, or movies. Most of the time, they simply ended up in the backyard with the sprinklers on in only their swimming trunks as they made up games that usually devolved into tag and water balloon fights.

A couple weeks into the summer, Raoul simply stopped following them. No matter the hour or the day, he had somewhere else to be or other friends to meet. He'd even gone so far as to volunteer to help the kids in summer school. The only time that Erik and Philippe had seen him was at dinner since it was mandatory and he was usually out first thing in the morning. Soon, they were seeing him in those overly, loose cargo pants and oversized hoodies even though it was the middle of summer. He stopped answering their questions, soon avoided Philippe's hugs, and refused to get a haircut.

Philippe had taken it in stride, simply counting it as one of those phases that Raoul necessarily had to go through. He had muttered that phrase, "it's just a phase" under his breath often and hadn't tried to push his beloved younger brother into joining them, but Erik could see that he was disturbed by this change. It was easy to see something he was feeling all too well. Erik hated to think that the tumultuous teenage years were starting early for Raoul. He dreaded the changes that were occurring for the pre-teen and could only hope that they weren't as bad for him as they had been for Erik, the isolation, uncertainty. The fear.

"Raoul," Erik ducked his head slightly, hoping to catch his gaze and interest him in something other than the floor. All that garnered him was the barest of acknowledgements, a glance from beneath eyelashes, before the boy walked through the door. Despite the limited space, he attempted to give Erik the widest berth possible as he pressed against the door frame, scanned the apartment once, then headed directly for the couch where he proceeded to sit and hug the duffle bag to his chest.

Erik silently turned, watching him, not quite knowing how to respond to that. Mrs. Chagny, hands now clear from the Tupperware, closed the door he'd simply forgotten with Raoul's entrance. He shook his head slightly and refocused on her.

She smiled at him gently. "Let me look at you."

As he'd learned to do all those years ago, he managed to stay still as she straightened his shirt at his shoulders then at his sides. He was glad he had forgone wearing a collared shirt today or else she would have fussed with the collar for longer than was necessary. She picked at what little hair he had and then pat it down smooth. She placed her hands on his cheeks, one on his skin and one on the mask, and forced him to lean forward to bestow a kiss on his forehead. With a candor it had taken him two years to believe, she fondly smiled at him. "You get more handsome every time I see you. I am so proud of you."

He tried to return the smile, but it was shakier than he'd like to admit. This woman had the strength, the perseverance to make a boy who had nothing, who believed in nothing, to believe in… Erik was certain that he believed everything was possible because of her. He cleared his throat from the tightness that had formed and took a step back. Mrs. Chagny only smiled wider.

She had already turned her attention to the apartment when Erik managed to mumble, "Thank you."

Philippe chose that moment to rush out of his room. "Hey, mom." He picked her up in a big hug and spun her around. "Raoul," he waved but either Raoul didn't hear him or ignored his greeting completely. Philippe frowned when Raoul sat unmoved but turned his attention back to her. "How do you like what we've done to the apartment?"

She didn't answer him immediately since she was more concerned with looking him over to make sure he had been taking care of himself. "You've gotten fatter."

Erik didn't stifle his laugh fast enough.

Sparing the briefest of moments to glare at him, Philippe said to his mom with an exaggerated pout, "Are you kidding me? You don't see me for two months and this is the hello I get?"

She stopped his griping by pulling him forward to kiss his forehead as well. "Even though you've gotten flabbier, you still look handsome. I am proud of you, too."

Philippe kissed her on her cheek. "Thanks, mom. Are you going to be staying for dinner?"

She shook her head. "No, your father and I need to leave."

"It was a two hour drive," Philippe tugged her further into the apartment. "And, you just got here. You shouldn't have to drive again already."

"I think he's actually right," Erik added. "You should at least stay through dinner."

"You do not even have food yet." She raised an eyebrow, daring them to argue. When they didn't, she continued, "You know your father needs to get to his meeting. And, you needn't worry. He's doing all the driving." Seeing their frowns, she added, "But maybe on the way back, I'll convince him to stop working long enough so we can eat dinner here."

They both still looked rather displeased with her compromise but knew that come Sunday, they would all be having dinner. And, knowing her, she would probably bring all the food for fear that they would forget.

"Now," she tilted her head towards Raoul, "what are you planning for my dear baby?"

That garnered a look from Raoul and Erik was beginning to wonder if the young Chagny was listening to any music at all.

Philippe didn't notice though. He was more focused on answering. "There's a type of concert series on campus. There are some stalls and live music in the quad. I thought he might enjoy it."

"Are you going to make sure he has time to finish his homework?"

"Of course." Philippe scoffed, looking away from her.

"Yes, Mrs. Chagny," Erik answered at the same time. He got a look for the title, but he really could not call her anything but that. It felt wrong to address her as anything else.

"I'm trusting you to make sure he doesn't forget," she directed at Erik. Her tone suggested she was referring to not only Raoul, but Philippe as well. "I'm sure he'll enjoy spending time with you two. It's always so awfully quiet without you two home anymore."

Philippe gave her a sad smile. "Once school is done I'll move somewhere back near home."

She nodded before going to the living room so that she could kiss Raoul on the cheek. She straightened her dress as she commented, "I do like what you did with the apartment. It looks much nicer now." She deadpanned, "A little messy but nice."

As an afterthought, she leaned forward and lifted one side of the headphones Raoul wore to whisper something in his ear. He blushed. "Mom," he whined before whispering something furiously into her ear. She only laughed and kissed him on the cheek again before heading towards the front door. Both Erik and Philippe stared at the exchange. It was the most emotion they'd seen from him in a while.

"Make sure you take good care of your brother," she said, patting Raoul on his head once before turning to leave. Philippe held the door open for her.

"We'll be back for him and for dinner on Sunday." With a kiss to both Philippe and Erik on the cheek, she left.

Philippe immediately turned his attention to Raoul, hopeful and determined after seeing that glimpse of the Raoul he knew. Casually sitting beside him, he asked, "So, how was the drive?"

Raoul simply tensed, eyes focused slightly away from him.

"It must have been long," Philippe tried again.

Raoul ducked his head further, his hair draping to cover more of his face.

Frowning, Philippe waited a couple of seconds before standing up. He cleared his throat and faked a smile at Erik's direction. "I'm- I'm just going to finish up cleaning my room and then we'll figure out if we want to go to the quad."

Erik watched him escape to his room and waited for the door to shut before he stood directly in front of Raoul. He held out a hand. "Give it here."

Raoul didn't look up.

"Don't make me repeat myself." His voice left no room to wonder if he would be bold enough to take it by force. He would. "I know you can hear me and I expect you to give me your mp3 player and the headphones. You'll get it back at the end of the weekend." His hand remained empty for another minute before Raoul tugged the headphones roughly off his head, and digging into his pocket he pulled out the mp3 player. It seemed that ten years of listening to his elders hadn't faded quite yet for Raoul, but what did surprise Erik, however, was the rather mutinous expression that had been directed at him for a quick moment before Raoul hid behind his hair again.

He pocketed the electronics. "I don't know what's going on with you. I know you didn't have any say coming here, but acting like a brat isn't going to get you back home." Tired of having this conversation with the top of Raoul's head, he crouched down in front of him. Still, Raoul wouldn't meet his eyes. "I don't really care what's going on with you." That earned him a surprised look from the young boy. Erik sighed. "Shit." Raoul's eyes widened at his expletive, and Erik suddenly realized why he stopped meeting people's eyes. Raoul had to know just how much he revealed with them. Clear blue eyes shone with worry and a hint of hurt from what he'd said. "Damnit, Raoul. Why don't you talk to your brother? Whatever is going on, he won't care. You know that. You know he loves you no matter what, right?" He hoped that Raoul hadn't heard him hesitate at that particular four letter word. "And I-," he faltered before settling on saying, "I'm like the worst person to be talking to."

Still, Raoul just stared at him past his bangs, eyes searching but wary.

Erik stood up abruptly, unable to stand the skittish boy in front of him. That wariness put him on edge, made him all too aware of his mask and made him realize that he hadn't worried about his face around this family for so long that seeing the fear and caution now made him a little sick. "You'll be sleeping on the couch. Everything's in the same place as it was when you visited at the beginning of the school year." He made a similar retreat as Philippe and headed to his room. "Any food in the fridge is free game and no TV until you finish your homework." Making the decision for them all, he added, "We're going to be leaving in an hour."

o.o.o.o

End chapter 02 part 1

A/N: Don't forget to R/R (Read and Review)!  
><span>Chapter Review<span>: Mrs. Chagny so kicks ass. I believe she's the reason Raoul (and Philippe) is so great. We don't find out what the heck was going on with Raoul just yet. Growing pains perhaps. We'll see what happens in the next installment. Whatever it is, it's hurting both Philippe and Erik. It's not like they can really just force Raoul to stop being… well, whatever he's being right now. They don't know how to deal with him. :(

Sorry for having to break it up. I'm so annoyed with this chapter; it's hard to even put it into words. It feels sloppy, unfocused or maybe not focused enough. Idk.


	3. 10 part 2

Title: 25  
><span>#<span>: 2. 10 part 2  
><span>Author<span>: Lucifer Rosemaunt

Summary: Modern AU. Raoul's known Erik for almost the entirety of his life, or the one where a Chagny ends up changing Erik's life in one way or another.  
>Fandom<span>: Phantom of the Opera   
>Pairing(s)<span>: ErikRaoul eventually  
><span>Warning(s)<span>: none  
>Word Count<span>: 5,385  
><span>Rating<span>: K+

A/N: Why do I keep starting stories that are multi-chaptered? D:  
><span>Story note<span>: Hey, POV shifts. So many views to do and not enough time to do it.

o.o.o.o

Ages:  
>Raoul, 10 yo<br>Philippe, 20 yo  
>Erik, 20 yo<p>

o.o.o

Raoul remained completely still, back stiff, and head bowed until Erik shut the bedroom door behind him. Only after that did he allow himself to move; even then, he simply shut his eyes and slumped deeper into the cushions of the couch. Those headphones had been the only reason he could pretend to ignore them, his brother especially. The pretense of listening to music, a pretense that his mother had never believed and apparently, Erik quickly saw through, had given him a legitimate excuse not to look them in the eye or speak to them. His first instinct had always been to do just that, and it was not only difficult but also actually hurt to avoid them. Distance made it easier; not having to confront them at all was really the only way he had successfully managed it since he was not strong enough to lie to their faces.

Hugging his bag tighter to himself, he let out a shaky breath that sounded loud in the now empty room. The panic that he had managed to tamp down in the car ride over was now coming back in full force. He could not help but look over his shoulder to where he knew the bedrooms were even though there was no indication that Philippe or Erik would come back out. They would not want to with the way he had been treating them; Raoul knew that.

It took him several long moments, but eventually, he hazarded placing his duffle bag on the floor. The nylon material made too much noise. Standing up slowly, he froze when the thinly carpeted floor creaked softly. No sound came from the hallway, so he snuck forward until both doors were completely in sight. Whitewashed and bare, they made him wish even harder that he were back home, or rather, wished that nothing had changed in the summer. He longed to see the dark mahogany wood and hanging chalkboards with each of their names written on it that labeled the bedrooms within the Chagny house. He missed the messy messages as well as the taunts and graffiti wars that constantly took place.

The rest of the apartment was as undecorated as their bedroom doors. The living room was so small that all it had was the sofa and a small television that sat atop a squat wooden table. The television looked rather unused. He smiled at that. The standing rule in the Chagny household was that during school, they could only watch the news, and when it was summer, they were encouraged to find other activities. They had two televisions in their house, one in the family room and one in their parents' bedroom and neither was used often. It was comforting to know that some things would not change.

Streetlight filtered through the grey slats of the window behind the television. It beckoned Raoul forward. He leaned against the wall, head pressed against the plaster. His parents would have left already. His father had been in a rush to leave, but he watched the cars drive by anyway. There was a lot of movement on the sidewalks, too. Students, very loud and boisterous students, were making their way back on campus. He had found it odd when his mother and he had passed a group of them eager to return to the place where they were forced to learn. Although, from the looks of some of them and their red, plastic cups that obviously held alcohol, he doubted that they were planning to get any studying done. Friday night was party night; he remembered Philippe talking about it last summer. He had not thought that the party would be on campus though, although the concert his brother had mentioned might be the reason why.

A concert was one of the last things Raoul wanted to go to right now. The thought of surrounding himself with all those strangers and the stench of alcohol made him cringe. He doubted he had a choice in the matter though.

Shifting his focus onto the blank cream walls, he let out a deep sigh before taking in the rest of the apartment. A breakfast counter separated the living room from the kitchen. Only two stools were tucked beneath the counter, but in the far corner, he could see four more stacked atop each other. The kitchen looked even smaller now that there were foodstuffs taking up space. On one side, there was the refrigerator, a sink, and the blender; on the other, there were two cabinets, the microwave, and the stove. Remembering Erik's words, he opened the refrigerator and frowned when all he saw were a carton of milk, some jello and pudding cups, and the Tupperware that his mom had brought. She had spent the entire trip worrying if she had brought enough food. He knew that on the way back, she would have enough bags of groceries to last them months.

The contents of the refrigerator mattered a lot less than the photos that clung to the door with colorful magnets. Yellow post-it notes, scraps of papers, even a couple of drawings were interspersed amongst the photos. Raoul brushed his fingers over the first one that caught his eye.

Almost five years ago at Amelie's and Mathilde's grammar school carnival, his mother had taken a picture of them in front of the monkey bars. He was seated on Erik's shoulders, face almost completely blocked by blue cotton candy while blue wisps caught in Erik's hair. Mathilde and Amelie were each holding one of Philippe's hands. His sisters were smiling widely. He was, too, though you could not see his mouth. Erik tried to look annoyed but he was smirking, and Philippe stood nearby, grinning at the camera. He remembered that night. Erik had adamantly refused to go – something about his mask and it being a primary school – but when it came down to it, getting him to go had not been that difficult at all.

The one right beside it was a picture of several Christmases ago. They'd had their annual post-gift-unwrapping competition. From the used wrapping paper ripped off their gifts, one of them – usually Raoul and Mathilde – would be the present while the others wrapped them. Since it was boys against girls, his sisters had their mother, who was the best gift wrapper of the family. However, much to their surprise, Raoul had been chosen as best present for that year – not so much for neatness as it was for creativity. The picture was of the winning team. His body was covered in a mosaic of wrapping paper scraps, but most visible was the tape that had held it all together. Philippe had had the brilliant plan to use duct tape that year. In the photo, Erik looked on worriedly from behind Raoul. He was keeping him steady while his brother brandished a pair of scissors that he had been forced to use in order to set him free.

Raoul looked down at himself now. He had grown taller, but not even by that much. Both Amelie and Mathilde were still taller than he was, though his mother assured that he would eventually catch up. Everything about him was skinny though, puny. He hated this new body and wished he would fill out already. He wanted to grow taller, be stronger like his brother or Erik. But, his body did not do anything that he wanted of it. No matter how much he tried, it kept betraying him.

He tried to forcibly push those thoughts away, but it occupied his mind enough that he could only give the barest of attentions to the next photos, simply scanning them. It took a moment for him to realize but he could recognize every photo. It was their family, their home, and a few from their school. At one time or another, he had lived through these pictures and for the ones he had not, he remembered looking at them while his brother and Erik regaled him with their adventures. The hastily scribbled notes interspersed had arrows pointing at certain pictures. He could easily tell their writing apart, although the messages themselves gave away their writer. He could hear their voices in his head simply by the tone.

Most of Erik's notes had a distinctive mocking quality to them. _This is when you tripped during our field trip, glad I had my camera. This is where you threw up on the rollercoaster. This is when you got lost. Cross country? I hated you for the entire season. Art club? Hated you for the entire semester. Fencing? Okay, but only because I could stab people. Never wear Hawaiian shirts ever again._

Philippe's messages were trying to embarrass Erik in his own way. _That girl was totally checking you out. Tested higher than you! Why are you standing like three feet away from us in this photo? Are you even looking at the camera here? Is that the back of your head? Is that your hand? Is that your leg?! What's with the scowl? I told you I was sorry about that glue gun incident._

Raoul found himself stifling a laugh when he saw a picture of Philippe asleep in a car with his mouth open. There were two notes attached to it. _You're drooling here._ To which there was a reply, _No sleeping shots, creep._

Before Raoul could finish reading all of the notes, a sound from Philippe's room had him rushing out of the kitchen. He narrowly missed slamming his hip on the counter and practically tripped onto the couch. He sat there, heart racing and blood pounding loudly in his ears, waiting for his brother to come out. He did not even know why he'd run. It was not as though he was doing something wrong. He just… he just did not want to seem like he still cared. It was easier to keep his distance if he kept up the ruse. He knew he was a horrible brother. Running a hand through his hair, he pulled his bangs out so that he could look at them. He really did look nothing like he had in those pictures. It only made sense that he should _look_ differently since he felt differently and was nothing like who he had been in those photos anymore. He had already tried and failed. The entire summer had been an effort in convincing himself that it was better this way.

Climbing over the couch, he stared towards the bedrooms again. There were only two, the door closest to living room and across the bathroom was Philippe's and the one that took up the end of the hallway was Erik's. He had taken the tour before the semester had started along with the rest of his family, but now he wanted to see what their rooms looked liked without all the boxes. He simply could not bring himself to knock nor could he walk in, as he once would have.

He had thought, had rather hoped that dreading this visit was misplaced fear. It was just not getting easier being around them. His parents had made him come and his sisters had even stayed at home; it was not fair. However, he could hear his mother's voice, saying, "Your brother misses you terribly. He's been asking for _you_ to visit since you were so busy in the summer."

Well, his brother was not the only one who missed a sibling. That was just what happened with time. Brothers had to go to colleges. People grew apart. Raoul understood that. Why couldn't Philippe?

Turning abruptly away from the rooms, Raoul went to his duffle bag. He pulled out his math book and folder from beneath his extra clothes and made himself comfortable at the breakfast counter. He might as well get some work done. It was easier to do the schoolwork than be left with his thoughts. Often though, he found his eyes turning towards the refrigerator door.

o.o.o

Philippe opened his door as slowly as possible before peeking his head out of his room. The television was on CNN at a low level and Raoul was still engrossed with his homework; he had checked twice before already and nothing had changed. It was now or never. Slipping out of his room, he made a break for Erik's, not bothering to knock. He all but flung himself through the thankfully unlocked door before shutting it quickly though silently behind him. He pressed against the door with relief, certain that Raoul had neither heard nor seen him.

From his place at his desk, Erik stared at him. He spared a glance at his textbook before shoving a bookmark into it roughly and shutting it. "Why do I even try?" he muttered to himself. To Philippe, he said, "What now?"

"I don't…" Philippe gestured behind him frantically. "I don't know what to do about him."

Erik scoffed. "You think I do?"

"I think," Philippe responded slowly, "you may have an idea."

Nodding, Erik had to admit he did. "Just talk to him."

"Talk to him?" Philippe pushed himself away from the door and proceeded to throw himself onto Erik's carefully made bed. He rolled around and for good measure pulled the comforter with him until he had successfully wrapped the blanket around himself. "What do you think I was trying to do earlier?" He shoved his face onto the bed.

Erik glared at him, certain that his supposed best friend was grinning into his bed despite being distraught about his younger brother. He forced himself to calm down about the mess before responding. "Well, he has no choice but to listen now." He held up the confiscated mp3 player when Philippe looked up.

Scrambling out of the bed and bringing the blankets along with him, Philippe took it from him to inspect it while Erik distractedly scowled at the state of his bed.

"He gave it to you?"

The mp3 player had been a joint gift from both of them to Raoul two years ago. Neither of them could afford it separately on their meager part time salaries, and joint gifts were not that uncommon between them – though usually it was Raoul and Philippe or Raoul and Erik giving the joint gift. It still looked rather brand new, and Philippe could not help but smile fondly at the thought of his brother making sure to take good care of it. His parents had scolded them for giving an eight-year-old such an expensive gift, but it had been worth it to see the expression on his face.

"I didn't really give him the chance to say no." Erik shrugged.

"Erik."

He knew the tone was accompanied by a frown without even looking, but he hardly cared. "He'll listen now. Although, I think he was listening earlier, too. He was just pretending to listen to music."

A pained expression crossed Philippe's features as he processed that fact before he shook his head. Erik could almost hear him mentally telling himself that _it's just a phase_.

Philippe's next question was expected. "Should we even go to the concert?"

That was why Erik's response was immediate, "He can't stay cooped up in here." He had been wondering the same exact thing actually. Raoul hardly looked happy to be with them, and taking him out to a college event probably would not make anything better. Raoul was too young to be in that phase where college held some appeal. He could imagine the younger Chagny sulking the entire time, and the mere thought that they might even lose him in the crowd or have him wandering away from them unaccompanied was terrifying. Raoul had never run away before, but he also no longer followed them, no longer cared to stay with them. He considered it a rather practical fear.

On the other hand, they could not keep him trapped in the apartment. That would only make matters worse. Raoul would continue to ignore them under the guise of working on his homework and Philippe would avoid him and camp out in Erik's bedroom the entire time.

His answer seemed enough of a reason for Philippe to reconsider. "Are you going to come with?" He tilted his head to indicate the abandoned textbook.

"Yeah." Erik rolled his eyes. "God forbid I leave you alone with your own brother."

Philippe snorted, "He's not the only one I have to drag out of this place against his will every now and then." He sobered quickly when he admitted, "I don't want to force him to do anything he doesn't want to do."

"We're not offering him drugs," Erik retorted. "We're telling him to spend time with us."

Philippe placed the mp3 player down before tugging the blankets around his shoulders tighter. He dropped onto the bed once more.

Erik cleared his throat and absentmindedly turned his watch around his wrist. He hated it when Philippe was depressed. He was not a Chagny. He did not know the right things to say and even if he did, he was not the person to say it. However, for the wretched blond currently messing up his bed even more, he tried to joke, "We _have_ to go. You even cleared your busy schedule for this weekend. Who's she again? Some Italian art major?"

Frowning, Philippe pulled the blankets over his face. "You know her name's Sorelli."

"Oh, do I?" He did know. He had not met her, but Philippe had been talking about his efforts at wooing the girl non-stop for the past two weeks. Erik might like her simply on principle because she was not falling head-over-heels for Philippe the second he talked to her like every other girl had in the past.

"And she's a dancer studying Italian."

Erik smirked. "Flexible then."

There was a pause. "You don't even know." And, Erik could hear the smile in Philippe's voice.

"You could always ditch your younger brother and spend time with your flexible dancer instead," he suggested blithely, but he had known the outcome of this conversation the second Philippe entered his room.

"Fine." Philippe threw the blankets off and threw a pillow at Erik, which he easily caught before it could hit him in the face. "Let's go."

o.o.o

Forced to check behind him to make sure Raoul was still there, Philippe knew he was going to strain his neck at this rate. Every time either Erik or he had tried to walk behind his brother, Raoul would walk slower and even stop until they walked ahead of him. His younger brother had not stopped being stubborn at least. Despite the crowd, he dutifully remained one step behind them, eyes usually focused on their backs or their shoes. He hardly bothered looking around the campus, at the other students, or at the booths. It was as though he did not even care, and that was something that Philippe needed time to get used to. His brother had always been curious about everything. He wanted to know how things worked, how tall buildings could get, how fast trains or planes could go. He thought Raoul _liked _to meet new people – not that this was the best time or place – but he thought it was somewhat exciting, especially to a ten-year-old.

The worst part, however, was that he actually had to keep an eye on both Raoul _and _Erik. His best friend was growing increasingly agitated, if the dirty looks he kept sending people who got too close to them were any indication. He kept sending glares over Raoul's head at the people who spared the young boy a second glance. Philippe knew that normal school day foot traffic was relatively fine for Erik, and even then, that was pushing it. Erik knew all the routes to take to his classes that had the least amount of students, even if they ended up being roundabout.

This was going to end in a disaster. Philippe did not know how Erik had thought that this would be a good idea. Better yet, he did not know how Erik had convinced _him_ that this would be a good idea. He was usually the voice of reason.

Philippe reached over to grab his sleeve. The band was playing and they were at the fringe of the crowd, not even close to the lawn where the main crush of bodies was moving as a writhing mass of limbs, but it was still difficult to hold a conversation. He kept a hand on Raoul's shoulder and was relieved when the touch was not brushed off.

"How 'bout we call it a night?" he yelled over the heavy bass. "We got food." In the line to the booth, they had just barely avoided an argument when the woman in front of them simply refused to stop staring at Erik's mask. Philippe had been afraid that she was going to ask him about it. That never ended well, but they had managed to get through without an incident. "We saw the sights and heard the band." It was hard not to hear the band. He had seen Erik grimace several times, and Philippe knew that even though he heard nothing amiss, someone either had hit an off chord or sang a bad note.

Before either of them could answer, Raoul was propelled forward. Erik caught him beneath his arms before he could fall face first into the pavement. He steadied him while Philippe forcefully redirected the man who looked as though he worked for the band before he could continue to plow right through his brother.

"Hey there," Philippe said good-naturedly, "Careful." He did not have to glance over his shoulder to know that Erik was glaring at him.

The man stopped in confusion and shifted the coil of electrical cables on his shoulder. He looked down at Raoul, who flushed at the obvious surprise on the man's face. "Didn't see you." He raised his red cup up before continuing towards the stage with renewed purpose.

"Yeah." Philippe decided, "Let's go."

"Yes," Erik agreed gravely, eyes still following the man until Raoul caught his attention when he shrugged his hands off his shoulders.

Philippe muttered to Raoul, gently bumping his shoulder, "Stay close please."

They had only vacated the immediate area of the concert when Erik stopped them. "I have a better idea." He changed directions and when they were far enough away to hold a decent conversation without yelling, he said, "How about we show him where we spend most of our time?"

Philippe threw his head back, groaning. "Are you going to show him the library?"

"I didn't think you knew what that was." Erik scowled. "We're definitely not going to show him the dance studios."

Philippe could see the beginnings of a smile on Raoul's face and he had finally stopped hunching over himself and staring at the ground. The elder Chagny sighed; apparently his brother was about as sociable as Erik. "You might actually like the libraries here. They're huge. You…" he hesitated, "You still enjoy reading, right?"

Raoul met his eyes for barely a second before looking away. He nodded, eyes following a group of three girls heading towards the main quad.

"The libraries are more impressive in the daytime," Erik said. "They have stained glass windows in the lobbies and some hallways have artwork."

"They're also more G-rated in the daytime, too," Philippe added.

That earned a look from Raoul and a glare from Erik.

He held his hands up in surrender. "From what I've heard." He quickly changed the subject, "Where are we going then?"

"Charge Hall."

Philippe looked appeased with this new destination and let Erik lead them past two buildings. They stopped in front of a tall structure that was quite different from the other red brick structures on campus. It was all steel and glass and had abstract metal sculptures in the two reflection pools in front of it.

"This is the Architecture building," Erik explained. "Most of my classes are here."

"It's actually called the Charles Garnier Hall," Philippe added. He hopped onto the raised walkway that ran around the building and pressed up against the floor-to-ceiling glass wall. "But all the Architecture snobs" – he smirked at Erik - "call it Charge Hall." He waved Raoul over. "Come on."

Reluctantly, Raoul followed him, leaving Erik to stand in the walkway. He copied Philippe, cupping his hands to see through the glare of the streetlamps and into the building. Inside was a large lobby with sofas and coffee tables scattered around. Large metal beams rose into the ceiling, disappearing into the higher floors. The only lights on were shining on several model structures, towers of metal and glass similar to the Hall itself.

"There it is." Philippe pointed. "You see the one that looks like a cross between the Eiffel Tower, a chandelier, and a guillotine?"

That particular model was easy to spot. The framework was metal but unlike the others, it did not look welded together. In fact, Raoul could hardly tell how the structure stayed together. It reminded him of the block city that used to be in his room, beams piled atop each other precariously. He could distinguish the floors easily though. Throughout it, there was glass cut at sharp angles, inset from the beams so that there were balconies. It looked like something that fit in more in the Art department than here.

"You wouldn't think it," his brother continued, "but the glass is like some illusion or something like a kaleidoscope. Do you see that center beam?"

Raoul tried pressing even closer to see better, and he could just barely make out what his brother was talking about. "Uh huh."

Philippe glanced at him in surprise. He shared a look with Erik before continuing, "Well, on that beam, there are two figures in the very center. You can't tell right now, but in the light, it's designed in a way that those figures get reflected on every level, so that it looks like there are people everywhere inside. I had to go up to it to see for myself."

Raoul squinted and was disappointed when he could not see anything of the sort. He could not even see the figures on the beam.

"That one's Erik's," Philippe stated proudly.

Pulling away from the glass slowly, Raoul stared at the floor for a moment before looking towards Erik. "Can we see it?"

Erik and Philippe shared a look of surprise before Erik answered, "The building's closed right now. We'll have to wait until tomorrow."

Raoul offered a small smile before nodding.

"There's nothing as interesting at the Industrial Engineering building." Philippe punctuated his statement with an overdramatic sigh and leaned heavily against the building.

To his surprise, Raoul responded. "Can I-" he hesitated. "Tomorrow. Can I see it anyway?" He did not want to admit how much he had missed the stories that they used to tell about their classes. It was not even really the stories. He just felt like in the few short months that they had not been speaking, he no longer knew them anymore. He had _missed_ this so much and he could almost forget the reason why he had decided to stay away. Almost. He had no choice but to be with them this weekend, so he _could _make some concessions.

Philippe smiled widely. "Yeah. Of course, yeah. We'll take over a classroom and have lunch in there or something. Charge Hall is too sterile for me. I always feel like I'm going to ruin all the concrete and white walls when I eat in the classrooms."

"You're not supposed to eat in any of the classrooms," Erik interjected.

But Philippe continued, "The ISE building though. Man, that's comfort right there. It's a place you could live in…"

Loud laughter drowned out anything else he might have been saying as a group of four, three men and one woman, passed by the building. One of the men intentionally bumped into Erik. He was easily twice Erik's size. Most of the extra weight was around his waist though since he was a couple of inches shorter than Erik. When he laughed, he clutched at his belly as it jiggled. Stopping, he got up into Erik's face to spit out, "Hey." He pointed, and then laughed loudly while looking towards his friends. "It's a little early for Halloween, isn't it?"

Erik responded with his usual stoicism. He glared, but did nothing more than take a step back. He could smell alcohol on the guy's breath and knew starting a fight would not be worth it. Maybe if the other man were more sober – because this was obviously a drunk-induced bout of bravery – Erik would have said something, but he had learned a long time ago that arguing with drunks was useless and exceedingly frustrating. Not only would the fight be short, it would be unsatisfying. There was also the fact that both he and Philippe had been through this already; they had spent high school fighting for Erik's pride and had been subsequently suspended because of them. He knew there were some battles that his fists could not solve.

"You seem to be saving everyday for assholes," Philippe retorted as he jumped down from the building ledge to stand by Erik's side.

Erik was just about to chastise him, but when he turned, he saw Raoul jumping off the ledge and running straight at the guy. Before Erik could stop him, small, skinny ten-year-old Raoul punched the man near his crotch hard enough that he stumbled backwards towards his friends. He doubled over, both hands clutching at his groin and toppled onto his butt.

"Back off," Raoul stated, and the entire group, even Philippe and Erik, could only stare at him in surprised silence. His hands were clenched in fists so tight that they were shaking at his sides, and he stared at the fallen student.

One of the guy's friends stepped up but stopped when Erik and Philippe went to stand beside Raoul. The odds were in their favour, but they were also drunk. More importantly, the look on both Erik's and Philippe's faces promised severe injuries if they even tried. Raoul was shaking so much, mind raging at the fact that someone dared to make fun of Erik's face that he hardly felt his brother and Erik's presence.

"Let's just go," the girl spoke up as she knelt beside her fallen companion.

The man immediately backed down. He reached down and muttered "Piangi" before chortling at the big man rolling around, holding his groin. Once he started, the others laughed along with him. It took all three of them to drag him to his feet. The guys mocked him all the while about being taken down by a _pipsqueak_.

As he watched them stumble away, Raoul finally felt how much he was shaking. It took an effort for him to slow his breathing. He waited to be scolded for fighting. He did not even know what had come over him. He had never hit another person in his entire life, had never wanted to, but Erik had not responded. Erik had not defended himself against someone who obviously had no idea of how amazing he was. Raoul had been so angry; there had not been a moment to think. He stared at the ground fixedly, and now his brother and Erik were going to think he was some hooligan, as his father put it.

He looked up in surprise when a hand ruffled his hair. "Thank you." Erik pat his head gently. "But, no need to fight my battles for me, okay?"

Wide-eyed, Raoul nodded silently, fighting the blush he could feel coloring his cheeks.

Philippe slung an arm over his shoulder and for the first time in months, Raoul let himself take comfort in that familiar touch. He still felt jittery, felt as though his heart was going to jump out of his chest. He deserved this for at least a moment.

"Come on, champ." Philippe whooped and pumped a fist in the air. "Mom'll kill me if she knew I was keeping you up carousing at night."

o.o.o.o

End chapter 02 part 2

A/N: Don't forget to R/R (Read and Review)!  
><span>Chapter Review<span>: Aww, people shouldn't mess with Erik when Raoul's around. ;3 Also, cameos!


	4. 10 part 3

Title: 25  
><span>#<span>: 4. 10 part 3  
><span>Author<span>: Lucifer Rosemaunt

Fandom: Phantom of the Opera   
>Pairing(s)<span>: ErikRaoul  
><span>Summary<span>: Modern AU. Raoul's known Erik for almost the entirety of his life, or the one where a Chagny ends up changing Erik's life in one way or another.  
><span>Warning(s)<span>: modern AU (yeah, I guess this _should_ be a warning)  
>Word Count<span>: 3,848  
><span>Rating<span>: K+

A/N: This really was supposed to be only five chapters, but then this part totally got overblown. Also, this chapter shouldn't have taken half as much time as it did to edit. Fml.  
><span>Story note<span>: Final chapter for this installment.

o.o.o.o

Ages:  
>Raoul, 10 yo<br>Philippe, 20 yo  
>Erik, 20 yo<p>

o.o.o

Raoul turned to his side for only a moment before rolling over onto his stomach to press his face against a pillow that almost smelled like home. It would not be surprising if their mother had forced his brother and Erik to bring detergent from home. She worried, as always, about every aspect of their life, hygiene included. He briefly wondered if they ever got homesick but quickly discarded the thought. They were always so eager to leave for school, to get away. The smell only made Raoul miss the comfort of his own room even more.

The couch squeaked loudly beneath him as he shifted onto his back again. No matter what position he moved to, no matter how he turned, sleep eluded him. He knew he was tired, physically so at least; he simply could not stop from plaguing him the flood of thoughts about what had happened on campus. Something had changed just hours ago, and he wondered if that change was just some part of himself. _Again_. He had let his guard down and now had no idea how to go back to the way things were.

As he turned to his side once more, he kicked out furiously when his left foot refused to be freed from the blanket. It was unbearably hot, stifling even, in the darkness and he could feel tears of frustration gathering at the edge of his eyes when he could not even manage to do anything right, even something as simple as removing his leg from beneath a blanket. His jaw tensed, and giving up his struggle, he sat up in order to reach down to pull the blanket away by hand. Even then, he fumbled a good while, almost managing to fling himself off the couch in the process, before he tossed the blanket to the ground instead.

He stifled a shout that was building up within himself but still ended up breathing heavily from his struggle with the blanket. Leaning against the plush back of the couch, he pulled the neck of his t-shirt up to his nose and held his face between his hands, trying to calm himself down with the breathing exercises his mother had once thought him. He could only stand to sit like that for several minutes before he itched to move again, to scream and kick, and more urgently, to break something. Shaking his head at yet another failure, he sucked in a breath of air and held it, trying to quiet the violent energy simply by willing it to be so or maybe pass out from trying. He held his breath for as long as he could, until his lungs hurt and his stomach kept clenching, trying to get much needed oxygen. Only then did he breathe out. When the last of the air was exhaled, he slumped against the couch and curled into himself slightly. He only felt out of breath, not calmer.

Lifting his wrist up, he jammed the button on his watch and squinted as the green glow cut through the semi-darkness, flashing a steady 3:06 A.M. He could not even blame this bout of insomnia on the adrenaline from the near-fight on campus. That had run its course once they arrived back at the apartment. The walk back would have felt freeing had he not been acutely aware of all the carefully constructed walls that had taken an entire summer to build, crumbling down in one single encounter. This was not adrenaline. It felt a little more like dread.

He allowed himself to fall forward and curl up into as small a ball as he could manage, burying his face into the pillow there. Once he was settled, he let out a heavy sigh. The major problem was that even though he was afraid and worried, this change felt right. He felt better now than he had for months. He did not like avoiding Philippe and Erik, and the past summer had been miserable despite all the new people he had met. Then, to make matters worse, his brother had to go and look so pleased whenever he said anything or whenever he met his eyes or chose not to ignore him. His enthusiasm made Raoul feel even guiltier for how terrible a brother he had been. He had always hated disappointing Philippe.

Rolling off the couch, he made the extra effort of grabbing the blanket to toss it back onto his makeshift bed. Earlier, he had staunchly refused either of their rooms when they had offered. In terms of stubbornness though, they were all rather equally matched and Raoul had been forced to resort to ignoring them both as he started to pointedly get ready for bed in the living room. After all, neither of them would attempt to physically move him once he had lain down. There may have been a time before when it would not have been unexpected, but that was exactly why he could not stay in either of their rooms now. They had not argued any further and he was still not sure if he had wanted them to or not.

Since sleeping was a lost cause, he crept towards the kitchen, noting along the way that only the light in Erik's room was still on. He paused, trying to hear if Erik was moving around, but he could hear nothing but the steady hum of the refrigerator. He settled against the cabinets across from the appliance, and using his phone as a light, he perused the photos held against the door with gaudy magnets.

He smiled faintly, seeing how happy they had always been. Maybe if he was more careful, it could be like it once was. Maybe he could be around his brother and Erik like nothing was wrong. Things apparently changed constantly and Raoul only hoped that they could change into something he could handle.

He paused when he saw a photo of Erik, Philippe, and his sisters that he did not recognize. It was a barbecue in the backyard. He could even see the arm of his father at the grill; so, his mother had probably taken the photo, but he was not there. The sliver of betrayal that seemed to stab him in his chest was unavoidable. The date in the corner explained why he had been absent though. It had been taken in the summer.

Leaning back, he pressed his hand flat against the linoleum, smothering the light from his cell phone in the process. He shut his eyes and focused on the chill that was seeping through his pants. The cold was better than the unfounded resentment that was creeping in. He was not sure which one caused him to shiver, but he refused to move, refused to even pick up his cell phone again in fear that he would just find another photo revealing what he had been missing. It would be better to get back on that couch and lay there, but he could not seem to convince himself to move. The hum of the refrigerator was loud enough to block most of his thoughts and if he just stayed a little longer, maybe he could just stop thinking and worrying for a little while.

He did not know how long he had been sitting there. The light from his cell phone had long since turned off; the hum from the refrigerator had faded into the background. He was only reminded of the cold when a warm body pressed against his side and caused him to jolt out of the trance he had fallen into. It was Philippe joining him, and he automatically shifted, trying to make room for his brother who was too large to really fit comfortably on the floor beside him, but who was obviously determined to do so anyway. He did not make it very far and resigned himself to his brother's warmth being so near.

"I think you get that from Erik," Philippe said when he was finally settled. He stared forward at the refrigerator as he spoke though.

The only thing that came to Raoul's mind was sitting on the kitchen floor, but he was sure that was not what his brother was talking about. "What do I get from him?"

"The brooding." Philippe glanced at him before pointedly staring at the fridge again, as though he were afraid that if he looked at Raoul for longer than a moment, he would disappear or, more accurately, ignore him again. "Maybe it's from dad." He shrugged and he had that pensive look he got whenever he talked about their father. Raoul thought to reply but could think of nothing to say. Philippe seemed to shake himself out of his musings though, and leaning forward suddenly, he touched one of the photos, the past year's New Year's photo. Philippe and Erik had stayed over for the holidays and their mother had brought out some sparklers. They were all holding one, even their father, though he looked as stern as ever. "But the face you make reminds me more of Erik than him when you do."

Raoul just stared at him because Philippe seemed to lose himself in his thoughts again and he could not remember a time he had ever seen his brother so silent or pensive. He found he did not like it and scooted closer to him, offering what little support he could. He told himself that it was merely for warmth, not because a silent Philippe worried him.

"Couldn't sleep?" his brother asked eventually.

"I," Raoul floundered for what to stay, but he thought he came up with a good excuse. "I must've slept too much in the car."

"Really," Philippe commented, and though it was obvious he did not believe him, he did not call him out on it.

He shrugged, glad for the cover of night and hugged his knees to his chest. His brother was silent once more, but the warmth against his side was familiar and enough to convince him to tilt his head the small distance over to lean on Philippe's arm.

"You know," Philippe kept his voice low. "When you were younger, you followed me around all the time. I didn't mind. Well," he let out a breathy laugh and his shoulder lifted, jostling Raoul a bit. "I did at first. Only because Amelie and Mathilde never did that and I…" He smiled to himself and Raoul knew that he could just listen to him talk all night if his brother would let him. "I didn't know what to do. I mean, I was hardly the best role model like father wanted me to be."

Raoul immediately wanted to say that Philippe _was_ the best role model, but to his dismay, even those words stuck in his throat.

"I tried to explain it to you this one time when you were two." Philippe looked down at him fondly, familiar lopsided smile and all. "I tried to tell you to stay with mom and you didn't listen to me at all. In fact, you started babbling at me before settling on yelling the word 'no.'" He paused and Raoul moved just far enough to watch him close his eyes and smile at the memory. "You said a lot at that age, not all of which I understood, but 'no,' by far, was the easiest to understand. And, then you just kept on babbling and following me." The smile disappeared and he whispered to himself, "Until you stopped." When he realized he was being watched, he gave a half-hearted quirk of his lips.

Raoul ducked his head again to avoid meeting Philippe's eyes even as he curled against him. He wanted to make him understand that he simply did not know what to say nor would he know how to say it if he did. The awkwardness there simply would not go away. It had never been easy for him to talk, not like it was for Philippe. His brother always knew the right words to say and when to say them.

Philippe must have remembered that fact as well because he continued.

"But I guess that is simply part of growing up," he commented and his mood shifted as he moved them away from the present and back into the past. "It's probably one of the benefits of our age difference." There was the wry humour there again and as Raoul let his voice wash over him, he relaxed.

Philippe continued, "I was old enough to not be annoyed by your presence when both Amelie and Mathilde were furious every time you tried to follow them and join whatever they might have been doing at the time. Really though, I was your only option. You probably wanted a male figure to look up to and Dad…" He paused again, staring intently at the refrigerator, "Father was away at work most of the time and you needed at least some time away from Mom even though you were always her favorite." He laughed to himself softly. "It's always the youngest who are the favorites, you know? And you clung to her so much more than Amelie or Mathilde did when they had been younger.

"They always said that _I _was your favorite though. That you wouldn't stop crying until I carried you or you wouldn't eat your food until I held the spoon and made train noises. Like, I could make the best train noises or something." He chuckled again. "Like I could make you sit still long enough to eat properly. You were hell as a kid, wanting everything your way and right now." He looked down again but Raoul refused to look up. Instead, Philippe lowered his head to press his lips almost imperceptibly against Raoul's head. "_I _always had to read your bedtime story because you supposedly would not allow anyone else to do it.

"Those were mostly lies of course. Mom was the one who did all the heavy lifting. Amelie and Mathilde only said that to get out of babysitting you. I didn't mind doing it of course; I actually grew to look forward to those moments because you were cute as a kid and maybe because you depended on me. I wanted to be someone you could depend on. But, if I think about it, Father even carried you the most on those family trips when everyone else was tired." He mused, "Father's always a little different when we're babies. He always seems different when we're at our most vulnerable."

"Amelie was always Dad's favorite," Raoul murmured, finally finding his voice. Family was safe. They were family and if he could not talk about family to Philippe, then what hope was there for him to talk about anything else.

In response, Philippe gave a surprised laugh that filled the small kitchen. It should have sounded too loud but the familiarity of it, the sheer amusement in it was more of a comfort. His arm moved slightly again as he laughed and Raoul shifted himself closer.

"She was," he eventually agreed, voice only softening as he continued, "She's also been much more affectionate towards him though. The most like him, too."

Raoul tried to stifle a snort, but his brother heard it anyway.

"What?" Philippe looked at him suspiciously.

Biting his lip, he considered not saying anything, but it felt as if his secrets and his thoughts would not harm them in this little kitchen in the pre-dawn. "She is not the most like him. You are."

His brother's lip curled up in a mix of denial, disgust and confusion. "I'll pretend you didn't say that."

Raoul grinned, shivering despite himself when Philippe pulled away to look at him. Hesitantly, his brother lifted his arm to put around his shoulder. He knew Philippe was waiting for him to react poorly, so he intentionally leaned heavily into his side. His brother smiled and pulled him closer.

"I don't know what happened with us this summer," he started and stopped when he felt Raoul tense. He only held Raoul closer though. "I don't want to pressure you or anything, but I'm here for you. There are some things I know you can't tell Mom." He added with a grin, "And definitely not Amelie or Mathilde." He sobered as he said, "But, I'm always here. Me an' Erik are, you know. No matter what happens, what you've done or not done. Anything at all. Do you understand?"

Raoul nodded but remained silent. There were some things that were unforgiveable. He knew that.

"No matter what," Philippe continued, seeing that Raoul considered talking to him. It was a step in the right direction, but he wanted to make sure his little brother understood just how important it was to trust him. "You're my brother. There is nothing I would not do for you. And you know listening, well, listening is one of the easiest things on that list." He tried to joke, "The hardest of course being hiding a body."

Raoul smiled to himself, and when he tugged his brother's arm around him more securely, Philippe took that as an agreement.

"Okay." He turned to kiss Raoul's head again before bracing himself. "Okay. Just, you have to do this one thing for me."

The younger Chagny looked up at him expectantly, willing to give Philippe anything when he used that tone because he sounded downright scared.

"Tell me one thing." He hesitated. "Did anyone hurt you or you know… do… _something_?"

Eyes widening, Raoul shook his head quickly, not believing that Philippe had jumped to that conclusion. If something like that had happened, he would have told someone. He paused; he hoped he would have told someone. He did not know, but he hoped he would never find out.

Philippe thunked his head back against the cabinet and squeezed him close. "Thank God." He cursed low under his breath. "I was so scared."

Raoul turned his face into Philippe's chest and listened to his heart beat for until it calmed. He eventually muttered against his shirt, near indecipherably. "I do want to tell you."

He understood him anyway. "But?"

"I don't know how," he admitted, and it was the truth. He did not know what to tell him.

Placing a hand on his head, Philippe suggested, "You wanna start from the beginning?"

There was a pause before Raoul said, "I don't think you'd understand."

"Could you try me at least?" he asked. "I may not always know the right words to say and I might not know firsthand what you might be going through, but there is one thing I am absolutely certain I know." He waited for Raoul to look up at him before he stated, "We are always stronger when we're with someone we love. We can take on the world."

Then, he waited. He waited for the words to sink in and Philippe had never felt so hopeful in the silence that followed than he did now.

Raoul took a deep breath and said, "You have to swear not to tell."

Holding his free hand up, Philippe replied, "I swear." He knew how important it was for his brother to hear the words themselves. "I swear that whatever you say to me will never leave my lips nor will it change how much I love you."

Nodding more to himself than Philippe, Raoul gathered his thoughts and started, "This summer…"

o.o.o

Raoul could not help but feel the desks at the university were much more interesting than the one's at the junior high, even though he had to occupy a second desk just for the sake of holding his textbook. He could hardly even lean on them if what Erik had said about them tilting after too much pressure. He also proceeded to tell Raoul of the time that Philippe had been hitting on a classmate and tried to oh-so-nonchalantly lean on the desktop before breaking it and making a fool of himself. That story had prompted Philippe to tell one about Erik ignoring a classmate who was hitting on him until she literally had to knock the book off his desk to get his attention.

They spent all morning exchanging stories and Raoul was happy just listening to them talk. The walk to the civil engineering building had been quite animated. Philippe had said it was the best place to study, especially since he knew too many people in the industrial engineering building to properly study. As they passed dozens of classrooms through a maze of halls just to get to Philippe's room, Erik muttered about horrible architects who thought this would be a good layout for a building. They both stopped muttering when Philippe swung the door open and proudly called it his 'humble abode.'

It was a small room, made even smaller by the overpopulation of desks. They had somehow fitting thirty desks in when even fifteen would have been tight. A wall of windows looked out into a small courtyard in the back, and even though a large tree covered much of the view, the sunlight still streamed through. His brother had claimed that it was the perfect spot because the room was hardly ever used for classes during the week and no one had ever bothered him while he was in there studying. Erik started saying something about unneeded privacy and the library under his breath, but Philippe cut him off with a look.

Philippe was currently perched on the teacher's desk, swinging his legs. He had offered to help Raoul with his math homework because of his promise to their mom, but Raoul was certain he did it in order to compete with Erik. Erik was no better though and they both managed to one-up each other at least once in the first two problems. However, when they reached the third question in the assignment, they got into an argument on how to solve the word problem about two ships sailing in different directions.

Raoul did not exactly know how the argument devolved, but Erik was now at the white board, drawing a rather good rendition of a naval ship while Philippe did nothing more than critique the line strokes, having been banned from writing on the board after he drew icebergs everywhere and tried to label the ship _Titanic_. When he was not complaining about the line strokes, he was quite persistent about Erik's abuse of the word _velocity_ when he really meant _speed._ Erik had retorted with something that sounded like, 'You're abusing your face,' but it could not have been because he was too busy drawing a smaller ship that he claimed would be an exact replica of the _Titanic _so that Philippe would stop being ignorant of the difference between the two ships.

Raoul watched them, hand covering his mouth to hide his smile. He had not the heart to tell them he had already finished his homework. He actually did not think they would care.

o.o.o.o

End chapter 02 part 3

A/N: Don't forget to R/R (Read and Review)!  
><span>Chapter Review<span>: Sorry. You don't find out why Raoul's acting like this right now. You'll find out in later chapters though. I promise. It'll come up again sooner or later, right?


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